


Black and White

by GodsHumbleClown



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Activist David, Animals, BECAUSE I DON'T PLAN ANYTHING, But not from davids family, Davey wears flannel, David is an artist because i said so, Enemies to Lovers, Entertainment, For telling me stuff about Marine Mammal Traininh, I do actual research, Kinda, M/M, Marine Mammals, NOTE : I UPDATE THE TAGS AS I WRITE, Ocean Parks, Past Abuse, SO THIS MAY INCLUDE TRIGGERS THAT WILL BE ADDED LATER IN THE FIC, SeaWorld, Shoutout to WaitingForMy, They support him in all ways, Trainer Spot, Youre rad, animals in entertainment, as i write and whatevers, as they should - Freeform, because then i have less research to do, but technically not, ew no thank u, more characters and tags will be added later, never gonna write that, no smut tho, orcas, past homophobia, sea life, that would require me to think about it, vague because I'm undecided on EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGG, we change names, whatever tags are hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28065216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodsHumbleClown/pseuds/GodsHumbleClown
Summary: Spot Conlon, head trainer for the Killer Whale show.David Jacobs, leader of the local animal rights group.Their paths were bound to cross at some point.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/David Jacobs
Comments: 108
Kudos: 43





	1. Maggs is back on her bullshit

The scent of several hundred pounds of fresh, raw salmon would probably, to the average person, be considered one of the worst imaginable, but to Spot Conlon, that smell meant home. Or technically, his home away from home. Spot did not live _in_ the orca exhibit, despite what the other trainers might say. 

He just liked to spend as much time there as possible. You didn’t get to be one of the best trainers at SeaLand, San Francisco by slacking off. Currently, however, he was not in San Francisco, but Canada. No real change, in all honesty. 

SeaLand of British Columbia still smelled like fish, and was decorated in all the same blues and greens as the park Spot knew so well.

  
“You’re the orca guy, right?”

The voice was unfamiliar, but not unfriendly. 

“That’s me,” Spot said with more confidence than he truly felt. Humans were a good deal harder to deal with than a several ton marine mammal, in his personal opinion. 

“I’m Elmer.” The young man offered a hand to shake. 

“Spot.” 

Elmer smiled, a bright, cheerful kind of thing that lit up his entire face.

“Interesting name. Nice to meet you. I’m supposed to show you around.” 

Spot nodded, stuffing his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. Perhaps unprofessional attire, but these people would get used to seeing him in a wetsuit sooner or later. A hoodie was nothing. 

Elmer led him down a short hallway, past a few viewing windows to an empty tank. Spot felt that same anticipation that he always felt back home, even knowing this place would be unoccupied until tomorrow. 

“They’ll be living here,” Elmer said proudly, gesturing at the large, modern pool. Spot had to admit, he was impressed. Maybe a little less fancy than the exhibit back home, but still, this was nothing to sneeze at. Thousands upon thousands of gallons of water lapped at the tank sides, ready to be a good home to his girls. 

_His girls._ Spot smiled at the thought, slightly tuning out Elmer’s conversation about the decorative tiles. Corky and Tokitae were hardly the lap dogs that people assumed when they heard Spot refer to them.

“It’s all brand new,” Elmer said, sounding almost anxious. “I really hope everything’s up to standards.”

Spot gave a quick look around, as if it mattered. His opinion was on training and day to day care, not a multi-million dollar construction project. 

“Looks pretty much like the one they came from,” he offered. 

“Maybe a little smaller, but there’s only the two of them, at least for now.”

Elmer nodded. Spot was beginning to realize how very expressive this guy’s face was. He practically leaked a need for approval, which could be either very good, or very bad. Might be good in front of a crowd, but he’d need confidence to get in the water with the whales. 

Nobody had gotten injured on Spot’s watch, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

“Mr. Pulitzer’s really shoveled out a lot of money for this project,” Elmer continued. 

“It’s been _years_ in the works.” Spot nodded along as the energetic young man explained the plans he’d known all about ever since they were first developed. Joe Pulitzer, owner of SeaLand BC, was finally deemed a big enough deal to receive orca whales for his park. The switch of Corky and Tokitae, a mother-daughter pair, across national borders, was big news for just about everyone. So many things could go wrong on the way over. They’d be cramped, and there was only so much water you could transport before whatever truck you’d chosen would just collapse under the weight. Corky and Tokitae had to be separate, which Spot hated, and they’d not seen one another for _hours_ , something that hadn’t happened since Tokie was born. 

Spot would be much happier when they were both settled in their new home, that was for sure. 

“The orcas are gonna have their own freezer specifically for _their_ fish,” Elmer said, gesturing like a realtor at a house showing. 

“Saves space in the long run, apparently, though I got no clue how.” He shrugged, then laughed. “Gonna make our jobs easier though.”

“You’re one of the new trainers then?” So Spot would be working with Elmer in the future. He was cautiously optimistic about that plan. Elmer nodded enthusiastically. 

“I’m good with dolphins, which were the biggest animals we had, until now, obviously. There’s me and two other guys you’ll meet tomorrow. Hopefully get a bigger team eventually.”

He waved over at a building connected to the enormous freezer. 

“Here’s where you can get changed and stuff. Do paperwork or whatever.”

Elmer jangled his keys and unlocked the door. It was a small, clean room, walls lined with lockers and a few clean, new looking benches in the center. 

“Here’s your locker and stuff. Keep it clean and all that. There's a girls side right next door, but we don't have any girls in this area, so you could use it too, if you want.” 

Elmer brushed past and opened another door. It was way too warm for layers, so Spot shrugged off his sweatshirt and tied it around his waist. 

“You can see into the tank from here, which is nice. They splurged and got some treadmills, which is weird, but whatever. I’m not complaining. And this,” he opened the next door down the hall.

“Is the entry to the freezer.”

The fishy smell was significantly stronger right about here, obviously. 

“Salmon, squid, herring. Quite the variety.” 

Elmer was clearly very proud of the fish selection these whales would have. He flapped his arms awkwardly. 

“I think that’s about it for now. I know there’s other stuff, like medical equipment and enrichment, but I, ah, don’t have the keys.” He clapped his hands in a weird little apology.  
Spot waved it off. 

“It’ll be fine. This is the immediately necessary stuff, right?”

Elmer nodded. 

“I’ll show you out?”

Now it was Spot’s turn to nod, and follow behind as Elmer led the way back down the hall. 

“Hey, uh, maybe don’t wear that in the parking lot.” Elmer gestured to Spot’s _Trainer_ t-shirt, which was now exposed. 

“Why?” Spot frowned at his shirt. It was a perfectly fine shirt, and it showed he knew what he was doing. Spot had earned the shirt, thank you very much. 

Elmer fiddled with his keyring. 

“There’s this one animal rights group who sometimes throws shit at the staff. Some asshole threw a water balloon at a janitor.”

Spot balked. 

“They actually do that here?” 

Back home it was picketing pretty much exclusively, and the occasional fundraiser on private property. Apparently the Canadian stereotypes were not all true. 

“Not everyone,” Elmer amended. “But I don’t know who might be out there, so it’s better to just not worry about it.”

Spot nodded, tugging his hoodie on over the apparently offensive t-shirt. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“They’ll try to hand you flyers, if it’s the more “aggressive” groups,” Elmer explained, walking Spot back through the locker room. 

“Just ignore them. They’re used to it.”

Spot sighed. 

“Wish they’d shut up,” he commented. Elmer laughed. “Maybe. But education is apparently not important, so whatever. We’re evil, remember?”

Spot snorted. 

“Right. Why do I always forget that?”

Elmer waved as Spot walked out the door. 

“See you tomorrow, Spot. Big day for all of us, right?”

“Big day,” Spot agreed. 

He couldn’t wait. 


	2. Mayhaps I have a new favorite fic at the moment.

When the two semi trucks carrying the pair of orca whales finally arrived, Spot was fairly certain he was going to jump out of his skin with impatience. The girls had been in dry slings for entirely too long, with only so much the guys transporting could do to keep them wet enough. They had hoses and tanks of water, but that was nothing compared to the tank an orca needed. 

He jogged across the parking lot to meet the trucks and guide them to the right entrance. Unfortunately, the “activists” had other ideas. They had a tent set up _just_ outside the land owned by the park, in a small patch of grass that was apparently public property. 

This delivery was widely advertised, so of course, the group had been there for, apparently, the past week, protesting, handing out pamphlets, and just in general causing a ruckus.

Spot was inclined to believe Elmer’s account of the past few days, just based off of the current situation of Large Group of Nutjobs Getting in the Fucking Way. 

“Let them go!” a woman shrieked, stepping directly in front of the first truck and nearly getting herself run over. The driver blared his horn, and Spot scowled. The whales were definitely stressed enough from the trip. No need to make such a huge fuss about everything and make it worse on them. 

“Ma’am, we need to get the whales settled-” he tried to begin, but was interrupted by a pair of teenagers waving signs in his face. 

“They belong in the ocean, prison guard!”

Spot sighed and tried very hard not to commit assault. Every second he spent trying to calm these idiots down was another second Corky and Tokitae spent on a fucking _truck_ instead of getting accustomed to their new home. 

“Spot!” 

Elmer came running across the parking lot. 

“What’s going- oh, shoot.” He sighed, and Spot internally did the same. 

“Look, we appreciate your concern, but-” 

“Killer whales live less than _half_ their lifespan in captivity,” interrupted a young man, shoving a flyer into Spot’s hands. 

“Look it up.” 

Spot crumpled the paper up in one fist. 

“The hell is wrong with you people?” Spot snapped. “They need to get into their tanks, it’s not good for them to be on the trucks this long.”  
“It’s not good to keep them in a fishbowl, either!” Spot found himself staring down a man with a good foot of height on him. He scoffed at the giant beanpole of a man. Spot routinely spent time in the water with four-ton carnivores who could crush him and not even notice. This guy was nothing. 

“This is no fishbowl, asshole. Back off, you’re trespassing on private property.”

“It’s all about _property_ to you people, isn’t it?”

Beanpole took another step closer, their chests nearly touching. Spot crossed his arms. 

“It’s about getting the _marine mammals_ into the fucking _water,_ before they get dehydrated.” He was trying to be polite, really, he was. But this man was just so unbelievably dense. 

He looked back at the trucks, both of which stalled, waiting to deliver their precious cargo. Spot gritted his teeth, ordering himself to keep it cool before things got out of hand.

“Hey, back off!” 

Spot turned towards the shout. A young man in blue flannel and a _Sea Warriors_ t-shirt waved an arm towards his stupid cult friends. 

“That’s not doing anything, guys. Let them through.”

Several people grumbled, but Flannel Guy stood firm. 

“A tank is better than a truck. Let them through,” he repeated. “We’ll keep coming back.”

Spot rolled his eyes. They could stay here all year for all he cared, just not right now. Right now, it was all about whatever it took to get the girls in the water. 

He followed behind the trucks, which now were able to pull in through the side gates, which swung shut behind them. Spot’s last glimpse of the parking lot was of the man in the flannel, still watching as they left. 

He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they were nearly done. The trucks both stopped. 

“Which one first?”

Spot didn’t recognize the young man who was speaking, but he was wearing a SeaLand wetsuit, so probably a trainer. 

“This one,” Spot nodded to the closer truck. 

“Tokitae. She’s younger, not as calm. I’d like to get her out as soon as possible.”

He climbed into the truck as soon as the door opened, ready to get the young whale out and into her proper place.

Tokitae clicked and whistled at him in happiness, like a dog whose human had just come home from work. 

“Hey sweet girl,” Spot cooed, rubbing at Tokitae’s pectoral fins. 

“Let’s get you in the water, yeah?”

She wiggled around a little, but for the most part, seemed relaxed. Spot really wished SeaLand had been able to manage a transport tank for the whales, but that much water combined with an adult and nearly-adult orca would have been entirely too heavy. 

Spot watched the crane lift Tokitae’s sling, multiple thousand pound animal now suspended in the air by a cord that, while he _knew_ it was sturdy and could hold the weight, still looked entirely too small. She struggled a little, just over the wall of the tank, and Spot felt his breath hitch. 

“Get her down, now!” he ordered. Better to rush than to risk her falling. They’d never be able to lift such an enormous animal into the tank. 

Tokitae was lowered gently into the shallow beaching platform, with maybe a foot of water all around. Spot moved forward to remove the sling and check his girl for any injuries he might have missed, or anything new from her sudden panic up in the air. 

“You’re okay, Tokie,” he soothed the nervous whale.  
“It’s fine, we’re going to get you into this nice new tank, alright?” 

Spot rubbed her sides and back before hopping up in front of her to give a few more directions. 

“Watch,” he directed the small group of new trainers. 

“I’ll show you some signals.”

He held his arms up in a Y shape, and Tokitae lifted her fluke almost immediately, giving Spot access to a strap, which he had to run back and undo, because apparently he had to do everything himself around here. If these guys were going to be afraid of the whale, they were never going to get anywhere. 

“Elmer, give me a hand,” he directed. Elmer was, so far, the only other person he knew even a little bit, and Spot was now the one in charge of this operation, so he’d choose who he trusted most to help. Elmer twitched in surprise, but jumped into action.

“Undo that,” Spot grunted, fiddling with a clasp. “Watch her pecs on the metal.” If this dude hurt Tokie the first time they met, Spot was going to have a lot of problems, both in his own head, and the whale’s. She wouldn’t forget, and that would make things infinitely more complicated. Several thousand pounds of apex predator holding a grudge against you pretty much destroyed any ability you might have at being a trainer for said predator. 

Finally, Spot was able to pass off the heavy sling to the men from the trucking company, and turn his focus on Tokitae. 

“Hey, girlie,” he said, rubbing her head.

“Feeling better?” the massive black head bobbed as if she was listening, but Spot knew what she really wanted. 

“Yes, we’ll get you in the water. Just a minute.” 

A quick walk around her enormous self, and Spot was sure she hadn’t been injured in any way on the long ride from California. That was a relief. He wasn’t exceptionally worried about Corky, as the older and calmer female was much better at staying still. Tokitae was a bit more prone to fidgeting, if he was being completely honest. Aside from a few small scrapes from the sling, which would probably be healed by the end of the week at latest, she was fine. 

“Come on,” Spot patted her side and waved his hands as the signal to un-breach herself. 

Tokitae was clearly happy to oblige, wriggling herself backwards towards the main part of the tank. 

No matter how many times Spot touched them, swam with them, and just saw any of the whales up close, he would never stop being amazed. Their sheer size alone was a marvel, and the surprising grace and elegance Tokitae possessed, even half-beached, was practically miraculous. 

“Alright, let’s get Corky out.” Spot moved towards the other truck, where Tokie’s mother was waiting patiently. The older whale was much calmer, but even she was starting to get a bit restless now that she knew the truck was stopped. She could probably hear Tokitae’s whistles and calls, and wanted to join her daughter in the water. 

“Hey, mama, how’s it going,” Spot rubbed her sides and helped the crane workers to latch her up to be lifted. 

“Steady for me, alright?”

Corky stayed calm, fully trusting that Spot would keep her safe, even dangling in the air in an extremely unnatural position for a whale. 

She didn’t struggle like Tokitae had, so her release into the pool went much smoother. Spot finally managed to get the other two trainers whose names he didn’t know to actually come up _next to_ the whale, check her for injuries, and let the girl slide gracefully into the water. 

Tokitae peeped her head out of the water every so often, clicking and squirting at them in what Spot understood to mean “hurry up!”

Finally, Corky was able to join her daughter in the roomy pool, splashing and spinning to stretch her entire self after hours cramped into a truck. 

Spot laughed at their play, the two whales gracefully swimming, splashing, squeaking, and just in general making a ruckus. 

Apparently, they were loving their new home already.   
  



	3. Fish Heads! Fish Heads! Roly Poly Fish Heads! Fish Heads! Fish Heads! Eat them Up, Yum!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you waitingformy for giving me random facts, I appreciate u.

The whales themselves being happy was, evidently, not a good enough reason for the protesters to go away.

“Go protest a real problem,” Spot muttered under his breath, climbing out of his car. At least today the group was much smaller, with only three people handing out flyers under their stupid tent. 

Like they couldn’t be fundraising for conservation programs or something. Collecting litter, cleaning up beaches. Didn’t people do that kind of thing? Or did they just stand out by the parking lot and waste paper?

He shook his head in annoyance. 

“Hey.” 

Spot turned towards the surprisingly friendly voice. 

It was the same guy from yesterday, the one who seemed to have at least some control over “his” group.

“Hey,” Spot said cautiously, looking the young man up and down. He was wearing a blue flannel, same as yesterday, over a simple World Wildlife Foundation t-shirt. 

“I’m David. David Jacobs”

He offered out his left arm, drawing attention to one detail Spot had missed the day before. David’s right arm was bound up in a blue cast, decorated with animal stickers and metallic sharpie signatures.

“Sean Conlon. People call me Spot.” Spot shook David’s hand awkwardly. “I work here. Trainer.” 

He tried not to sound too happy about that, seeing as David probably didn’t consider that to be a good kind of accomplishment, but some pride snuck in anyway. 

He’d worked hard to get here, and nobody was going to take that away. Not even an eco-activist with quite possibly the bluest eyes Spot had ever seen, and why was he noticing them so much if they were just eyes, and he’d never noticed anybody’s eye color the first time he met them, and holy shit his brain was falling out of his head.

“You’re the one who called off the angry mob yesterday,” he recalled, trying desperately to get his mind to think about something aside from this total stranger’s eyes. 

David nodded. 

“Most of them are only around on “big occasions” like yesterday,” he explained. 

“And they don’t exactly have any self control.”

Spot snorted. 

“You got that right. Coulda killed the whales, acting like that.” 

"Yeah," David ran a hand through his curly hair. “Sorry about that.”

Spot raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t been expecting an apology, not from this guy. David. He had a name, which did make things complicated. What he’d expected was another monologue about how the whales were dying in tanks, and Spot was a murderer/jailer/animal abuser. 

This normal conversation was a bit disorienting, in all honesty. 

“I should probably… get to work,” Spot said, awkwardly gesturing at the park gate. 

David nodded, stepping back towards his tent. 

“I’ll leave you to it. See you around?”

Spot found himself nodding before he realized he was doing it. 

“See you.”

* * *

Later, as Spot sorted through countless pounds of salmon, he continued to think about David Jacobs. 

Actually, it was quite a countable amount of salmon, seeing as that was literally the entire point of sorting the salmon. Everybody had a very specific weight of fish that they were fed, to keep each whale in top health. Weighing purposes, and also making sure the orcas weren’t given disgusting, bacteria-contaminated fish to eat. 

“Is this one bad?” Elmer held up a herring for Spot to check. Why he thought this was different than fish prep for dolphins, Spot wasn’t entirely sure. The near-constant questioning was a distraction from his confusing thoughts, at least. The strangely fascinating David Jacobs would have to take back burner to a pile of dead salmon for the time being. 

“That’s fine. This one’s torn, so it’s not.” Spot gestured with a damaged fish before tossing it in his reject bucket. 

Boots, one of the other new trainers, was incredibly fast, to the point where Spot had worried he was doing it wrong, but it turned out, the guy was just that efficient. 

Spot quickly checked on Romeo, the third trainer-in-training, who was somewhere in between Boots’ machine-like pace and Elmer’s complete lack of confidence that would probably make them take six hours to finish at this rate. 

“Is this one-”

“Elmer,” Spot interrupted. 

“Every fish you’ve asked me about has been fine. We don’t have all day. Trust yourself.” 

He tossed another fish into Tokitae’s cooler.

“It’s the same quality as for dolphins.”

Elmer nodded, still clearly nervous. Spot knew the feeling. Orca trainer was basically the top of the totem pole, as far as animal trainers went. You started with Sea Lions and gradually worked your way up. 

He knew _he_ wouldn’t have wanted to risk screwing up fish prep when he’d first started working with the whales. 

This park was different in that, for some reason, Mr. Pulitzer had decided to provide a special refrigerator and sorting area just for the killer whales. That seemed like an exceptional waste of money in Spot’s opinion, not that anybody had asked. 

Boots was the first one to say anything not related to dead fish. 

“So what’s it like in Cali?”

Spot tossed almost a pound of squid onto the scale. Corky loved her squid. 

“Warmer than here. More traffic, like, a lot more.”  
He tried to think of something else. 

“I don’t actually know, honestly. I just got here.” He half laughed, then immediately regretted that when a fish scale wound up in his mouth. 

Spot did his best to wipe and/or spit it out onto his sleeve. He’d be getting into his wetsuit soon anyway.

“What’s it like here?” 

Boots slid his bucket across the counter, emptying it into the larger cooler labeled CORKY.

“In case yesterday didn’t clue you in, not everybody’s polite in Canada.” 

Romeo snorted into his fish pile. 

“That one guy was decent,” Spot commented, trying to keep something resembling a positive attitude.

“The Jacobs dude?” Elmer nodded in agreement. “He’s fine, mostly. Kind of nutty, like all of them, but when he’s out there, usually nobody throws shit.”

“We do frown on throwing shit here,” Romeo agreed seriously. 

“Which is why it's good that we don’t have any monkeys.”

Boots looked like he might slap Romeo with a fish, but seemed to reconsider right at the last second. 

“Sea monkeys,” Elmer pointed out. He held up a fish, hesitated, then put it cautiously in his reject bucket. Spot nodded, smiling. Elmer beamed proudly.

Finally, the sorting and prep was complete. 

Spot lifted a bucket, feeling the satisfyingly full weight in one hand. For some reason, a very silly part of him secretly loved that feeling. It meant he was ready to start the day exactly how he liked it. 

“Alright guys,” Spot looked at the three new trainers, who by now were probably excited to actually get up close and personal with the whales. They’d been waiting long enough, and besides, Spot wanted that too. 

“Time to get everyone introduced.”


	4. Not Very Much Like a Groundhog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fun fact, orcas =/= groundhogs.

Spot zipped up his wetsuit, tossed his bag into his new cubby, and walked out the door to his new home away from home. He directed Elmer to bring a bucket full of Tokitae’s fish along, seeing as they were going to be introduced to a pair of multiple thousand pound mammals. He grabbed one for Corky as well, containing an assortment of her favorite foods. Yes, Spot liked to think he spoiled his girls, though the majority was still herring. 

He led the way to the pool, all the while planning exactly how he wanted these introductions to go. Corky would be good to start with, and there was no point in separating Tokitae into the other tank. She’d just be grumpy and sassy, as the whales didn’t like being separated. Spot did not want to work with a grumpy animal several thousand pounds larger than him, thank you very much. 

The two swam to the platform to say hello, Tokie flapping one pectoral and Corky peeking her face out of the water like a big, black and white groundhog with teeth that could crush every bone in your body. So not very much like a groundhog, actually. 

She whistled and clicked at him, calling out curiously, as if asking “who are all these new people, and do they happen to be in possession of any squid?”

Spot rattled his bucket as much as was possible with a bucket of not-very-rattly fish, and yes, some squid for Corky. 

“Hi Corky,” he cooed at the enormous animal. “How’s my girl today?” 

She dipped back under the water and was replaced by Tokitae, side-eying all of the newcomers curiously. 

“Okay,” Spot turned to the humans he should probably stop ignoring. 

“We’re going to do this one at a time, and whoever isn’t working with the whales is spotting.” 

Spot kind of wished he had some more experienced help, someone to be sure the newbies were actually _good_ at spotting before leaving them, but that hadn’t been his decision to make. Just about anyone with eyes could (hopefully) tell the difference between “yes, good session and nothing is going wrong” and “oh dear, he’s being eaten alive.”

Not that Corky and Tokie would eat Spot, but still. It was always good to be careful. 

“Remember, they’re thousands of pounds,” Spot explained, voicing his thoughts out loud. 

“These two could seriously hurt you just by accident, and they might not even notice.” 

Boots, Romeo, and Elmer nodded, with a seriousness that Spot highly approved of. 

“Corky’s really gentle, but still. She’s huge and strong and accidents happen.” Spot dipped his foot in the water and onto Corky’s rostrum. She “snorted” at him, spraying a bit of mist from her blowhole. He laughed and rubbed along her eyespots. “Good girl.” Corky liked being touched, rubbed, petted. She was like an enormous dog sometimes, all snuggly and wanting attention. 

"Tokitae is a little less predictable," Spot explained, pointing to the younger whale, now swimming laps and pretending to ignore him. 

"She's sassy, but if she likes you, you'll have a lot of fun working together."

He looked at the three new trainers critically, trying to decide the best way to start. He gestured for Elmer to come forward.   
“You kind of met them the other day, so we’ll start with you.” Elmer jumped nervously, but came over. 

Some people called Spot overly cautious, others claimed he moved too quickly. He wasn’t about to get Elmer doing waterwork yet, but putting off introductions wouldn’t help anything. Corky was quick to respond to his signal, peeking up out of the water, close to Elmer, who looked incredibly nervous. Spot tweeted his whistle at her. 

“So she knows that’s what I wanted,” he explained, tossing fish into Corky’s open mouth. 

"Always use positive reinforcement. First of all because negative is cruel, and second of all because if you try and use punishment on a fucking orca, it’s entirely possible you will die and you would absolutely deserve it." 

Was Spot _supposed to_ say that? No, definitely not. The man who'd taught him hadn't said it, and it wasn't exactly part of the usual lecture for new trainers, but Spot didn't care. Nobody higher up was watching, so he could speak his mind, however unprofessional. 

“She’s watching me,” Elmer noted, seeming to relax more and more. Spot nodded, glad Elmer could tell. Apparently orcas were “hard to read” for some people, probably because they weren’t dogs and people were stupid and Spot hated them. Also he should probably focus on what he was doing. 

“She likes touch,” he said, demonstrating and waving for Elmer to follow. 

“For now we’ll use your hands until you’re used to it. Don’t want you falling in.” 

The one time Spot had fallen in by accident had probably been the most embarrassing moment of his life, and he was just glad the whales were used to him at that point. 

Tokitae swam up to join in the fun, creaking her little “What’s up, guys?” noises. 

“Hi, baby,” Elmer called at her, and she practically squealed, splashing her pectorals happily. Spot laughed. 

“Looks like she likes you.” 

Elmer beamed, turning back to Corky. The older whale did what Spot (very unprofessionally) referred to as “squiggling,” where she kind of twisted and swayed a bit to make him rub exactly where she wanted. Elmer laughed, and immediately Spot decided he approved of this guy when he quickly understood what Corky wanted.

“You,” he pointed at Elmer seriously. “I like you.” He turned back to Boots and Romeo. 

“See him? Be like him. He’s good.” Elmer turned bright red and half hid behind Corky’s massive face. 

Spot laughed and moved to pet Tokie, who was being bratty in her desire for attention, spraying and splashing in Boots and Romeo’s general direction. 

“They’re like people,” he explained. “Huge, powerful people who can’t quite tell you what they’re feeling all the time. Respect them, and they’ll respect you.” 

All three of the new trainers nodded, and Spot smiled. He reached into the pocket that made this the best wetsuit ever, and pulled out the new whistles. 

“For you all,” he said, almost dramatically. 

Now he felt ready, or as ready as he could be with 75 percent of the trainers having about twenty minutes of experience with orcas, and a surprisingly determined group of protesters who seemed ready to annoy him every day for the rest of eternity. 

Still, the trainers were smart and eager, and Spot allowed himself to be optimistic. This was the dream job, in his opinion, and nothing was going to ruin his good spirits today. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUESTION : Do y'all readers wanna see a chapter or half-chapter from David's perspective, or shall I keep giving only Spot?  
> Also thanks for reading my end notes <3


	5. The most magical place on earth : Canada.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I spent far too long trying to write flirting, and finally gave up and just went with what I do when I see a person I think is cool and rad, which is Be Extremely Stupid.

Nothing was going to ruin Spot’s good spirits, except perhaps a guy by the name of Jack Kelly, who apparently thought Spot’s career choice was his business. 

“Look, man, I’m trying to get home. Back off.”

Kelly shoved his stupid little pamphlet into Spot’s hands again. He’d introduced himself and then immediately launched into his rant, completely ignoring the fact that Spot was trying to step around him. 

“This is all the stuff they don’t want you guys to know,” he insisted. Spot tried very hard not to roll his eyes. He was tired, and a mess, and probably smelled like dead fish. None of these things were putting him in a particularly good mood, thank you very much. 

A good day did not necessarily mean Spot was going to be in a good mood. Right now he just wanted to shower and eat something, not deal with… this. 

“I’m sure it’s all fascinating,” Spot managed to politely say. “But I’m really not interested.”

Not interested in their poorly researched pamphlet that probably cited Peta or some random blogger with a degree from “I researched whales for second grade science class thirty years ago” university. He was now pressed against his car, which was just lovely.

“Deplorable conditions,” Jack insisted. “Look at these pictures.”

“Yes, I’m sure those are awful,” Spot agreed, trying to unlock his car one handed and behind his back. 

“But they’re not of this park, or these whales. Please go find somewhere else to yell and make trouble.”

Jack shoved the pamphlet in his face again, and Spot dropped his keys. 

“Any thoughts on the nude body found in the exhibit in California?”

Spot’s only thoughts at the moment were along the lines of _fuck,_ which he probably shouldn’t say in this particular situation. Even in other situations, he had very little to say about a death that had happened before he even knew what an orca _was,_ much less got involved in training them. 

“That was Orlando, and twenty years ago. Please leave me alone.” 

Spot wasn’t exactly _small,_ but he was very tired, and not interested in getting involved with the police after a week living here. 

“Still, don’t you have _any_ opinions on that? How would you feel, being trapped in a bathtub for so long?” 

Spot wanted to pick his keys up, that was how he felt. But he didn’t want to crouch down and be vulnerable to someone who might be completely unhinged. 

“Hey, Jack!” a voice called across the parking lot, and Spot decided that guardian angels must exist, because obviously he had one. “Can you help with this poster?” 

It was David, the guy who made Spot’s brain shatter, and he was waving Jack over to him with his un-busted arm. 

“Thank _God,”_ Spot muttered under his breath as Jack jogged away. He dropped a pamphlet and stopped to cartoonishly scramble and pick it back up. Spot forced himself not to laugh, instead taking advantage of the opportunity to fumble with his keys again. 

“Hey.”

“Fuck!” the voice surprised his stupid keys right back out of his hands. 

“Sorry,” David apologized from significantly closer than Spot thought he should have been so quickly. 

“I’m quiet.”

“I noticed that,” Spot nearly snapped, then attempted to soften the bite of his tone with a smile. The only problem here was that he had nothing else to say. He fiddled with his keychain, the whale one. Made of driftwood, so it floated. Not that Spot was going to bring it with him into the water, but still. You never knew. 

Spot looked at David, and suddenly felt very self conscious. There were probably fish scales on his face, weren’t there? Not that he normally cared, but still. For some reason, at this particular moment, it really mattered. 

“That’s my roommate,” David explained, breaking the awkward silence. Said roommate was attempting to attach a large banner to a load bearing tent pole, which struck Spot as a very bad idea.

“He’s not always that annoying, I promise.” 

Spot cracked a smile, because how could he not? He couldn’t just stare blankly while this guy, this unfortunately attractive guy, gave him the most awkward, bashful little smile ever. He was wearing a flannel in July, which, to be fair, was much colder than the July weather back home. Still, it _did_ add to the overall cuddly aesthetic that kind of made Spot feel like he was being stabbed in the gut, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was in a good way.

“I live alone,” he found himself saying, stupidly, to a total stranger. Great thing to say to one of four people you know in a new place. 

_Hello, yes, I am very robbable and also very stupid. And gay. Did I mention the gay?_

“I could show you around sometime,” David offered. “If you’re interested, obviously.” His face flushed. 

“I know we didn’t really get off on the best of feet. Foot. I mean, the right foot. Right?” Somehow he managed to turn even redder than before. Spot suspected he himself looked the same. 

“I’d like that, thanks.”

They stood awkwardly again, looking each other up and down and pretending not to, until David finally reached into his pocket and pulled out a sharpie.

“Can I get your number?”

Spot fumbled, realizing he didn’t have any paper and suddenly wishing he’d kept Jack’s stupid pamphlet. 

“Here.” David offered his arm out. “Just write it on the cast.” 

That was so incredibly middle-school, Spot might die, but he complied, scribbling his number and signing it underneath, just in case David had forgotten his name, because a name like _Spot_ was so incredibly forgettable. 

“Thanks,” David smiled. What exactly he was saying thanks for, Spot didn’t know. He did know that it made him feel like he was about to melt, which probably was a sign he should get out of the house more and talk to people about something other than what made a herring unusable. 

Spot Conlon did not want a social life, but apparently he fucking needed one. 

“I’ll text you?”

That was a statement, but David said it like a question.   
“Yeah,” Spot managed to get out. 

“Yeah, and we can… something.” Yep, they’d something. That _was_ what people did, was it not? Spot’s brain had been replaced with an unusable herring.

Surprisingly, he found himself thanking the stars for his new “friend” Jack, who distracted David from Spot’s idiocy by knocking down their tent. 

“Oh, shoot,” David cursed, under his breath as if it was something obscene. “I’d better go help with that. I swear, I’m just babysitting half the time.” He grinned like they were sharing some kind of an inside joke, except he must have forgotten to tell Spot what it was, because he was definitely not sure what the punchline was. Maybe he was the punchline. 

“See you around?” 

He nodded, giving an awkward half wave as David walked away. 

“See you.” 

Surprisingly, Spot found himself almost not dreading it. 

Canada sure was a magical place. 


	6. Everything is a coffeeshop au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot and David pretend like they're not going on a date.

How do I look?”

David turned to face Jack, as if a guy who wore a cowboy hat everywhere when he lived in Canada was an expert on fashion. 

“Why do you have to like such _assholes?”_ Jack groaned, completely ignoring the question. David winced.

"Low blow, Jacky."

Jack immediately looked guilty. 

“Yeah… regretted that one as soon as I said it. Still, be careful?” He gave David his most pleading face. “For me?” 

David smiled, giving in immediately. 

“You know I can’t resist your puppy eyes.”

“Neither can Sarah,” Jack pointed out with an impish grin. 

“Do not,” David poked Jack in the chest. “Bring my sister into this discussion.”  
Jack looked at him, offended. “We’re dating!” 

“And until you put a ring on her finger, I’ll only consider you to be _kind of like_ family,” David sniffed, straightening his shirt, because _of course_ he wouldn’t want to wear a rumpled flannel. 

“Technically, you’ll have to marry her to join the Jacobs clan.”

Jack flopped back on the couch, kicking his boots up one hundred percent to annoy David. 

“Your mother loves me. She’d adopt me if she could, and you know it.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” David checked his phone again to make sure Spot hadn’t texted him to cancel. “Because Sarah would never forgive her if she made the two of you siblings.” Spot hadn’t texted him, so David tugged on his shoes. He pushed Jack’s feet off the arm of the couch.

“Were you raised in a barn?” 

Jack snorted indignantly, like a barn animal might. 

“I was raised _next to_ a barn. Not _in_ the barn.”

David nodded and continued to fiddle clumsily with his shoelaces. Stupid cast.

He supposed he should argue, but at that moment, his phone buzzed. 

**_Spot Conlon :_ ** _Outside your apartment building._

"I'm heading out," David announced in Jack's general direction. 

"If anything happens, text me," Jack said. "David, please?"

David sighed, but nodded. "I promise. I'll call you if this goes sideways and I need a ride."

Jack didn't exactly look satisfied, but he was something like it. 

Satisfied or not, David was going. 

"I'll see you in a few hours," he said, pushing open the door. 

"Tell him they'll never find his body if he touches you!" 

Half with nerves, David chuckled at Jack's closing remark and headed down the apartment stairs. Wouldn't want to keep Spot waiting on the death threat.

* * *

Spot suspected that this excursion was less about showing him around the area and leaning more in the direction of a date. 

This suspicion was supported by the fact that it seemed the plan was to stay in this specific coffee shop all afternoon, which Spot absolutely was not going to complain about. 

It was a nice little shop, and the company of one David Jacobs was surprisingly pleasant. 

"So," he said over his weird greenish iced tea. 

"You like Canada so far?"

Spot nodded, trying very hard not to swing his leg against the stool. Stupid bar stools being so _fucking tall_. 

"Kind of cold for me," he joked, glancing up and immediately regretting it. David pushed his curly hair out of his eyes, and Spot was suddenly very aware of literally every aspect of himself. 

Was this shirt too red? Was there such a thing as "too red"? Should he have been more creative about his drink order? Black coffee wasn't exactly interesting. Did he still have scales on his face or arms? 

Fuck, David was talking again.

"... so yeah, I'm really sorry about the truck thing." 

Spot nodded along and pretended he hadn't just gathered his few remaining marbles up off the floor. 

"No harm done," he managed to get out, avoiding eye contact. 

"The girls are fine, settling in nicely."

After only a little over a week from their introduction, Tokitae had already taken a shine to Elmer, almost as happy to see him as she was to see Spot. Maybe enough that he could start them on waterwork soon. 

"How long does that usually take?" David asked. Spot searched for some underlying question hidden there, some way for David to twist his words, but saw only genuine curiosity. 

"It depends on the whale," he finally answered. 

"Corky, the older one, is really calm, and Tokitae kind of follows her lead. They're a mother daughter pair," he added. "Like they would be in the wild."

David nodded and sipped at his tea. 

"That's good." 

Spot wondered if David had more reason for wanting to spend time with him than just whale sleuthing, or if that was just wishful thinking. 

"So what do you do?" He asked, sneaking a glance at David's face but avoiding his unfortunately pretty eyes.

David shrugged.

"Work. Volunteering. I take some online classes." He shrugged again. 

"I'm kind of boring, sorry."

Spot made the terrible mistake of looking into those apologetic eyes, and was only sort of aware of his own response. 

"I spend most of my time handling dead fish. I never talk to people, like, at all." 

David laughed. 

"I get along much better with whales," Spot admitted. "They make much more sense."

 _God_ those fucking _eyes_. Blue as the cast on his wrist. David blinked, calm interest absolutely drilling into Spot like… well, like a drill. Why he found the blinking to be significant, Spot wasn't sure. 

"It's like, like, their eyes," Spot fumbled to explain. "You look at them and you just _know_ that somebody else is looking back at you, you know?"

David nodded, half smiling yet still so serious. He had eyes like a whale, spot thought absently, then frowned, confused by his own thoughts. 

Whales didn't have blue eyes. 

"What's wrong?" 

Spot shook his head. "Nothing, just… headache," he lied. Explaining that he'd briefly seen a several thousand pound mammal staring back at him from David's face would make him seem like an absolute nut. 

Not that nuttiness was entirely out of the question. Spot _did_ willingly put his arms into the mouth of an apex predator and stand right on top of it. Maybe he was kind of nuts. 

"Do you want to go back home?" David offered. 

"I'm good," Spot assured him, watching David's face carefully. Was that the response he'd been hoping for? 

David just nodded and went back to his tea, swirling his metal straw around and clicking at the ice.

Spot sipped at his coffee and remembered why he didn't like coffee. 

He looked out the window at the street, lined with trees and filled with people. 

"It's nice here," Spot commented after a moment. 

"I've lived here my whole life." David finished his drink and folded up his straw into its container. 

"And I never really get tired of it. It's home, you know?" 

After draining his own drink, Spot got up to put away their cups. 

David twitched in surprise. "Thanks."

Spot nodded and set both cups in the plastic bin above the trash can. 

He found himself wondering if this would become _his_ home, and if so, how soon. 


	7. Jellyfish Kellyfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot is lonely :(  
> So is GodsHumbleClown. pls talk to her. always lonely.

The nickname _Spot_ could be attributed to either paranoia or responsibility, depending on how one chose to look at it. 

In Spot's opinion, if you saw it as paranoia, you were probably going to die a preventable death, deserve it completely, and nobody would be to blame but you, _Oscar_. 

Spot did not particularly like the young man working at the popcorn stand. Not at all, in fact. 

Back home, the nickname Spot was teasing, but a friendly teasing that meant "we appreciate you always spotting us in the water with the whales, Spot. Thank you for keeping us from being smushed or drowned or eaten, Spot." 

Because that was why he was called Spot. Spot was always ready to be spotter for waterwork, and he _absolutely_ was not getting in the water without someone spotting for him. There was a difference between confidence and stupidity, and Spot liked his limbs working and un-chewed, thank you very much. Corky and Tokitae were beautiful, intelligent creatures, and Spot liked to think he had a relationship with them, but that didn't make them house pets. 

"You can never be too careful," he explained to Romeo, watching with approval as Elmer and Boots worked with Tokitae.

Romeo nodded, keeping his eyes on the whales at all times. He learned fast, and Spot was becoming more and more comfortable every day. 

"You can watch her eyes, her body language, just the way she acts." 

Elmer put one foot on Tokitae's rostrum, and the young whale squealed happily at the touch. 

"She's sure taken a shine to you," Boots said with a smile. Boots seemed to be physically incapable of feeling jealousy, which made the social aspects of this whole thing much easier. 

Spot did not like the social parts of this job, or at least not as far as they included other humans. Socializing with his girls was one thing. Other people was an entirely different scene, and one that he'd never been particularly good at navigating. 

The two new trainers worked through a few behaviors with Tokitae, a new challenge after their beginnings working with the much calmer Corky. 

Tokitae had a mind of her own, and that mind suddenly decided that it wasn't interested in training anymore. 

She splashed one pectoral in the humans' general direction before swimming off towards the center of the pool. 

"Looks like she's done for the day," Romeo laughed. 

Tokitae peeped her head up to watch them from several yards out, looking like a whac-a-mole game, except bigger, and with more teeth. 

"Tokie," Spot called out, and of course, was completely ignored. 

"Alright, I guess we're done now," he said with a smile. "I assume you already know this, but come on. I'll show you how to weigh the leftovers."

Spot waved for Romeo, Boots, and Elmer to follow him, then carried the bucket of fish-water slushie back inside. They should start selling that flavor of sno-cone. Fish goo. Have Oscar do it, all day every day. 

Delicious, if you were a whale. 

* * *

  
Spot had to admit, it kind of worried him that he already had a key to nearly every gate in the entire fucking park. He'd been working here at SeaLand for less than a month, but nearly immediately had been proclaimed completely trustworthy and deserving of what was essentially a skeleton key. 

That begged the question ; did the people who worked in the jellyfish exhibit also have keys to the Orcas, or did it just go one way? Spot had no real interest in messing with jellyfish, thank you very much, but he didn't come close to knowing every park employee who might potentially have access to the girls. 

Something to think about, he decided, watching Tokitae and Corky settle themselves in for the night. 

Technically he shouldn't be putting his feet so close to the water right now, but the whales were far enough away that any potential danger would be easy to see in time to move. 

Besides, the mother and daughter were calm, sleepy, and about as threatening as a pair of rubber ducks, bobbing lazily just below the surface. 

Spot _did_ trust them. He trusted them as much as one could trust anything that could kill you with nearly no effort. 

For example, trusting his brain, heart, stomach, and every other part of his body that was quiet enough to think about David Jacobs. All of those were things that might just kill him, if he wasn’t careful.

Spot let one foot rest on the surface of the water, right along the platform, of course, so he was still mostly dry. 

If he thought about water, he wasn’t thinking about David, and how confused he made him feel. David seemed… smart, and Spot wasn’t sure what to do with that. He was calm, maybe a little awkward, and far too pretty. 

Far, far too pretty. 

Spot leaned back with a sigh, resting his shoulders against the cement wall bordering the training platform. At some point, he was going to have to leave, but not right now. Leaving meant going out into the parking lot, which by now would be dark and empty, and, similarly to this morning, would probably not have David Jacobs in it. 

Had he scared the guy off? 

Spot was sure David had been there bright and early every morning since their date. He’d wave, and Spot would wave back, maybe say something, if David was off by himself. So why hadn’t he been there today? It was a Saturday, so the park was busy. All the other animal rights people were there, but not David. 

Spot had _almost_ gone to ask Jack, but then decided he’d rather stick his hand into the jellyfish tank than do that. 

Instead, he’d spent the entire day firmly thinking about anything except for David, and hoping he hadn’t somehow ruined this friendship/relationship/whatever it was. 

It was exhausting, keeping his mind distracted like that. Or maybe it was working his tail off that was exhausting. Spot struggled to his feet and reached for his keys. He’d start taking the occasional day off once Boots, Elmer, and Romeo could manage without him, but that was going to take time.

For now, this was Spot’s life, and he found he didn’t particularly mind it. 

The one thing he minded, he couldn’t exactly do anything about. David would either reach out, or he wouldn’t. 

Spot whistled through his teeth to say goodbye to Corky and Tokitae. He couldn’t quite tell through the distortion of the water, but they might have moved in response. 

Taking care to lock absolutely everything possible, Spot headed home, almost wishing he didn’t have to make the drive alone.   
  



	8. Wish it was raining instead of all tHIs DUCKING SNOW!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got my information on the term synagogue from the link below, so please let me know if it's inaccurate. 
> 
> https://www.jewfaq.org/shul.htm

The park opened exactly one hour later on Sundays. Spot didn't fully understand why that was, but it didn't affect him in the slightest. The whales needed to eat, and they liked their schedule. Well, sometimes they liked the schedule. Sometimes Corky and Tokitae would decide "no, thanks. We have no interest in shows today," and Spot could do absolutely nothing to change their minds. 

Not that he'd try, really. If they didn't feel like performing, that was their business. Sure, if it became a habit, he'd start to piss off some of the higher ups, but for the most part, people would be happy to watch the orcas just swimming around and doing whatever they chose.

An animal that large was impressive no matter _what_ she happened to be doing. 

Spot told himself he only arrived early because he wanted extra time to organize things in the office. 

There was no other reason. 

He put the car in park and explained to himself that no, he was not here early just in case a certain activist group had for some reason decided to arrive early. 

It made no difference that they had arrived early, and were already set up with their tent. 

Why did they always have the fucking tent? Did they rent it? Wasn't that expensive? They must have owned it already, or else that was a seriously irresponsible financial decision. 

And who was sitting under that tent but David Jacobs. Alone, no less. Spot looked around, and saw no Jack Kelly, or any other volunteers/picketers/annoying people to harass him if he were to head over that direction. 

Surely there was no harm in wandering that way? 

After all, Spot _was_ earlier than usual. The office wasn't even disorganized. He'd not needed to come in early anyway. 

Before Spot had even finished logicking the decision into his mind, he was across the parking lot and approaching the tent. 

David sat on a folding chair behind a folding table, doodling something on a piece of paper. 

"Hi."

Spot was very creative. 

The question on his tongue was _what did I do and why do you hate me now?_ But that was probably not a good way to start a conversation. 

David looked up, and his eyes brightened. 

"Hey! How are you?"

This did not look like someone who hated Spot and wanted to avoid him. He must have been busy yesterday. 

Or he was faking happiness to be polite. 

"Pretty good, just heading in to work. You the only one here?"

He gestured around the almost empty parking lot. 

"For the moment, yeah. Jack came to set up, but he's got work this morning."

David turned back to his drawing, still half-facing Spot. Was the conversation over? It didn't feel over. 

"Looks like rain," Spot offered, not sure what else to say. 

It _did_ look like rain. He wasn't being stupid. 

David hummed and nodded in agreement. Spot resisted the urge to pull out all of his own hair in frustration. 

_Better get it over with, Spotty. Like a bandaid. See what you did, and maybe it's fixable._

"I noticed you weren't here yesterday," he said, trying and failing at sounding casual. 

"I was at synagogue," David said, looking up from his sketch. There was a question in his eyes, one that squeezed Spot's heart just a little tighter. Those damned eyes...

"Oh," Spot said awkwardly. He had no idea how to talk to religious people. They didn't usually like him very much, due to him being not particularly heterosexual. 

Shit, David was probably going to take that response the wrong way, wasn't he? 

"That's cool," Spit added on, to prevent his confusion from becoming an insult. 

Religious didn't necessarily mean homophobic, did it? 

"Yeah," David mumbled after a moment, focusing intently on his drawing. 

For a moment, Spot worried he'd insulted the guy, but then realized that David was actually just that into his drawing. Spot craned his neck to get a better look. 

"What're you working on?" 

David moved to show the paper off a little better. 

"Fish. I draw a lot of fish."

Spot nodded, impressed. It certainly was a picture of fish, and a good one at that. Just pen on the back of some flyer, but still clearly a lionfish. Though Spot had very little experience with lionfish, so maybe it looked nothing like a lionfish. It looked nice, however accurate it happened to be. 

"You're good," he said, because Spot Conlon was no art critic, and also David made his brain fall out. 

Immediately, David's face flushed. Spot's brain fell out, and all of David's blood tried to escape through his skin. 

"They're okay. I do children's book illustrations on the side, but it's not enough to be a career."

He shrugged. 

"I like it though." 

After a moment's pause, he offered Spot the little doodle. 

"Here, you can have it, I mean," he fumbled both his words and the paper. "If you want it. You don't have to." 

Spot scrambled to catch the drawing before it hit the ground. 

"Thanks," he said, folding it carefully into his wallet. 

"Been needing to put some art up in my apartment."

Somehow, David managed to blush an even deeper shade of pink. 

"It's nowhere near that good," he protested, fiddling with his cast. 

"Lies," Spot declared, backing out of the tent. David smiled a tiny bit. 

"When you're famous, this scrap of paper is gonna be worth millions." 

David squeaked without any words, and Spot laughed. 

"See you around, David."

"See you."

Was it Spot's imagination, or was David watching him as he went into the park? 

Probably just his mind playing tricks. 

* * *

Every so often, Spot's car liked to do a fun thing where the windshield wipers would just decide they did not feel like working anymore. This was inconvenient for a few reasons, the main one being he couldn't very well drive home in a torrential downpour without being able to see, and he also didn't really want to walk several miles in the pouring rain. 

Additionally, it was getting dark, and he was the last one to leave almost every day. That was a bad decision, apparently.

Well, almost the last one to leave. There happened to be a familiar tent up, with two familiar faces. One of these faces, Spot liked. The other was currently giving him a suspicious look, mixed with a small amount of pity. 

David turned to Jack and said something Spot couldn't hear over the sound of all the rain. Jack looked annoyed, but jogged across the parking lot. 

Spot tensed instinctively, but Jack didn't try to convert him to the cult of Peta or whatever stupid group he was a part of. 

"Do you need a ride?" 

Spot blinked rainwater from his eyes. 

"Kind of. Are you offering?"

"David's offering, but he can't get his cast wet." Spot looked over at the tent, where David had started folding up the table and chairs. 

"I could use an extra hand getting the tent down," Jack said, clearly annoyed to be asking. 

After a moment's hesitation, during which he continued to get more and more soaked, Spot nodded and moved to follow Jack over to their little campsite. 

David smiled as soon as he came over. 

"Car trouble?"

Spot nodded. "Junk heap usually gets me where I need to go, but not today."

"Well, we could really use an extra pair of hands," David said, moving to undo a clasp. 

Jack swatted him away playfully. 

"You're gonna get wet, stupid. Go pack up some flyers." 

David scoffed, but did what Jack asked. 

Spot helped disassemble the tent, a painfully uncomfortable process as he and Jack tried to keep David from being soaked or flattened, while also staying true to their silent agreement not to snap at each other. 

Finally, the drippy heap of canvas was loaded into the back of either David or Jack's beat up old truck. 

This was going to be a squeeze, Spot realized. 

David climbed into the back of the extended cab, clearly leaving the passenger seat open for Spot. 

Spot wasn't about to spend the car ride right next to Jack, so he squished himself into the back, for once happy to be so compact. 

His leg was still touching David's leg. Was Spot supposed to move? Was this weird? David reached under the seat, forcing them closer together. Spot couldn't breathe properly. 

David pulled out a few towels and tossed one at Jack's head. He passed another to Spot, and used the third to carefully wipe up any water that managed to get on his cast. 

"Thanks," Spot managed to get out. He attempted to dry his hair without making himself look too much like a blow dried squirrel. 

Jack turned on some almost not absolutely awful country music and started out of the parking lot. 

Spot gave him directions, focusing only on getting home, and not on the fact that his leg was touching David's. 

Finally, they pulled up outside his apartment building. Spot gathered his things and handed David back the towel. 

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem," David said with a smile. "We can pick you up in the morning, right Jack?" 

Jack snorted but said nothing. 

"Drive safe," Spot said, ducking out of the truck and starting towards the building, which had a much lower chance of rain on the inside than the street outside. 

He reached the door and turned around just in time to wave goodbye. 

David, having scrambled into the passenger seat, gave a little wave out the window as they drove away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know if words can change the entire world, but Efstitt sure wrote some that changed my world.  
> Cant decide if I feel good or bad, but I'm feeling something, and that's more than the emptiness I've had for the past week.


	9. Literally everyone wants to protect David at all times and I just think that's neat of them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am being so disciplined about this fic and not giving away too much, even to the people who talk to me about it daily!  
> Be proud of me.

It was still pouring rain, Spot's car was still mostly broken, and like usual, everything smelled like fish, but David didn't hate him, so it was a beautiful day to be alive. Spot vigorously set in to fish prep before even the other trainers had arrived, sorting herring and salmon and squid into buckets and bins for the girls. 

"Someone's in a good mood," Elmer teased, jumping in to help. 

"So sue me." Spot couldn't quite manage to fit any malice into his voice, but that was fine. 

David drove him to work today, without Jack, and he'd let Spot buy him a coffee. Spot was forever going to associate caffeine with David. He might even start drinking coffee regularly, just because of that. 

Probably not, due to the fact that he hated coffee more than just about anything in the world. 

"So," Romeo put his things away and came to give them an extra pair of hands. "Saw you with Mr. Sea Warriors out there." He grinned. "Found a new _friend_?"

Was it just Spot, or was it suddenly hotter in here than it had been just a few seconds before?

He moved to check the thermostat, purely for responsibility and keeping the fish fresh. Certainly not an excuse to keep the other guys from seeing him blush. Spot didn't _blush._

"He's blushing!" Romeo crowed. Spot hissed in his general direction. 

"I absolutely am not. Go jump in a tank of sharks." 

Boots shook his head in disappointment. "Spot, surely you don't mean to spread harmful stereotypes about sharks?" He gestured towards Elmer. 

"Impressionable child!" 

Elmer nodded in agreement, then seemed to actually process the conversation. 

"Hey! I am not!" 

Spot moved to weigh his fish bucket. 

"This one's ready," he announced, distracting the others from arguing. Not that he minded any good natured bickering, of course. Spot was very chill and relaxed and all around Very Cool, one hundred percent of the time. 

Also, still not blushing. He did not blush. Ever. 

* * *

"David's blushing!" 

The gleeful declaration from Les did not make David blush any less. If anything, it made him blush more, probably. 

"I am _not,"_ he insisted, lying to both his family and himself. 

"I can't believe you would lie to your own family," his father, Mayer, lamented. "And on my birthday, no less." 

"I'm not lying. Not lying, and not blushing." 

"Blushing!" Sarah sang out, not looking up from her notebook. 

"I'm not blushing. I have no reason whatsoever to blush," David insisted. He set out silverware on the table, soaking up their father's birthday dinner and enjoying the ability to pretend like he was twelve again, and Sarah was teasing him about his first crush ever. 

"Is he good to you?" 

" _Mama!_ " David groaned. "We just met."

Esther tapped his nose lightly. "And has he been good to you so far?" 

Okay, _now_ David was blushing. He did not argue with that tone, not from Esther. 

"Yes, Mama. But we're not really anything yet."

 _Yet_. A nauseatingly thrilling word. So much potential in either direction, so much that could be. Was it going to be good, bad, or maybe worst of all, something that would just fizzle out into nothing? 

"Earth to David," Sarah teased, and David shook the clouds from his mind. No use thinking like that. Things would be fine, he was sure. 

"Sit down," Les said, tugging at David's sleeve. "I'm hungry." 

David, being an obedient brother, and also ready for dinner, was happy to oblige. 

Hopefully the conversation would move to something besides his dating life sooner or later.

* * *

The conversation did not really move on to anything else, mostly thanks to Les being curious, Esther and Mayer fussing, and Sarah declaring her intent to commit violent crimes against anyone who might not be worthy of her siblings. 

"David, help me with the dishes?" Something about Sarah's voice told David that this wasn't just about dishes. Apparently the conversation would not be changing even after dinner was over. 

He helped carry away the plates, halfway relieved to escape Les' badgering, halfway dreading the conversation he'd known was inevitable. 

Sarah started to load the dishwasher, and David fiddled with their mother's collection of aprons hanging on the pantry door. 

The kitchen was silent, except for the clink of dishes. 

"You said his name was Spot?" Sarah broke the silence, watching David out of the corner of her eye. 

"Yeah. Spot Conlon. It's a nickname," David explained. 

"How serious are you two? Really." Sarah shut the dishwasher and turned to face him. "No lies."

Did she really think he would lie?

"Not very," David assured her. Was his cast normally this itchy? 

"We went on two dates, and one wasn't really a date. I drove him to the park, and he bought coffees on the way." 

Sarah nodded slowly, twirling her hair like she always did when thinking. 

"Still, if it continues, if this becomes… something..." she trailed off. The dishwasher hummed away, and David was suddenly very aware that Les and their parents were no longer talking in the other room. 

"I'll keep you updated," David promised. 

"I don't _want_ you to keep me updated," Sarah whispered. "I want you to be _safe."_

It was ingrained deep in David's being not to curse out loud, but that didn't mean he couldn't think the word _fuck_ with every fiber of himself. 

"Saz, I… I'm sorry."

Sarah turned towards the sink, and David hated himself. He hated when she cried.

"David, no. It's not your fault."

 _Yes, it is_. 

But David couldn't say that. Sarah didn't agree. She'd never agree, and he'd just upset her more by arguing. 

"Awkward sibling hug?" David offered. Sarah gave him a teary smile and wrapped her arms around him tight. 

"Davey, be careful, alright?" 

David nodded into her sweatshirt, not trusting himself to speak.

"If he does anything to you, ever," Sarah said, pulling David to look directly into her eyes. How did she manage to keep her voice so soft, yet so terrifyingly intense at the same time?

"He is dead."

"Thanks?"

Sarah nodded firmly. 

"Yes. Be grateful. They'll never find his body."

Strangely enough, David _was_ grateful. 


	10. In which David offends his teapot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think waterwork with orcas might be banned in Canada but I'm not sure and also I dont care.  
> I use accurate information only when it suits me.

Spot hated coffee. He had always hated coffee, and probably always would hate coffee, but it appeared that David liked coffee, and since David was driving him to work, Spot would buy him coffee. 

He'd tried to _just_ buy David coffee, but David had looked so confused by that, Spot panicked and ordered himself a black coffee to pretend not to hate. 

After walking in the park gates and out of view of David's car, he immediately dumped it down a drinking fountain and tossed the cup in a nearby recycle bin. 

"Still haven't told your boyfriend you don't drink coffee?" 

Romeo leaned against the wall, a smirk painted across his face. 

"Shut up," Spot grumbled, unlocking the door. 

"Why are you here so early?"

Spot usually was the first one to arrive, and then the other three would trickle in well before being technically considered late. 

"Because you told me to?"

Romeo followed Spot in to put his things away. 

"Did I?" Spot did not remember doing that. 

"You said for all of us to come in a few minutes early to talk about the first show, but I take the bus, so I showed up…" he glanced at his watch. 

"An hour and a half early."

Spot winced in sympathy. 

"Sorry about that."

Romeo shrugged. 

"I am but a slave to bus schedules. 'S like high school all over again." 

Spot chuckled a little at that. 

"Guess so. Here," he tossed a bucket to Romeo. 

"Let's get started and I'll wait to talk till Boots and Elmer get here."

Just at that second, the door slammed. 

"Boots and Elmer have arrived!" Elmer declared loudly and cheerfully. 

Half of Spot wanted to ram his head into the wall, while the other half was genuinely amused by Elmer's endearingly chaotic personality. 

"Cool, so I can talk while we do prep."

Spot moved to start sorting through fish for the girls, ready to start the day for real. He never felt like the day had really begun unless he was covered in scales and fish goo. 

"Basically, we have a request from "the higher ups" to get a first look at a show up and running," Spot explained, skillfully hiding his annoyance at said higher ups for trying to rush him. 

"We aren't going to include any waterwork yet, cause none of you guys have the experience, but I was thinking we could just go through some of the more showy behaviors to get people interested?"

The three novices nodded along as Spot talked.

"Maybe we could include some kind of "get to know you" thing," Boots suggested. "Tell some information about the whales, and where they're from and stuff. Get people invested."

Spot nodded in approval. 

"Good idea. We can't do much of the flashy stuff yet, so it's better to lean hard towards educational."

Elmer raised his hand and a dead fish awkwardly into the air. 

"Question, at what point _are_ we starting to learn waterwork?"

Spot knew that question would be coming. Who wouldn't be excited to really get _in_ the water with the whales? 

"I'm waiting to see if I can get someone else from an experienced park to help me out," he admitted. 

"I'd like one person to get in the water and show you guys the ropes, and have another experienced spotter watching, just in case." 

Elmer, Boots, and Romeo nodded in unison. 

"How's Mr. Pulitzer taking that suggestion?"

Spot rolled his eyes. 

"He's either going to give in and listen to me, or deal with waiting twice as long to get actually good quality shows up and running. He'll cave. I'm persuasive."

Romeo nearly sent the fish bucket clattering to the floor with the toss of a particularly large herring, but saved it at the last second. 

"Got any other ideas, suggestions, questions?" Spot asked. 

A general murmur of "no" went around the little group, so they went back to sorting fish in amicable silence. 

* * *

"You hate coffee."

David wandered around their little kitchen, pretending he couldn't see Jack giving him _that look_. 

"I just think we should have a coffee pot, is all." He set the new appliance on the counter and stepped back to make sure it looked good there. 

"But you hate coffee," Jack repeated. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. David moved the coffee pot slightly closer to the toaster, then back where he'd just had it.

"It works for tea," David pointed out. That was a good reason to buy a coffee maker. He was being completely reasonable. 

"We have a teapot."

Jack pointed at said teapot, sitting dejectedly on top of the fridge, clearly offended by David's betrayal.

The teapot was offended, and Jack was giving him that damned look, the one that everyone kept giving him. He didn't like or appreciate that look, and in fact would much prefer it if people would just forget about how worrisome he was and get back to their lives.

"Maybe I want both a teapot and a coffee maker. I can be luxurious sometimes." 

Jack scowled, pointedly ignoring David's admittedly sad attempt at a joke. 

"This is about that Conlon guy, and you know it," he accused. David fiddled with the new appliance, deliberately avoiding Jack's eyes. 

"I just think that if he, or anyone, really, ever comes over to visit, this might be good to have." 

Jack groaned, leaning back so far David worried his chair might flip. 

"Why?" He whined, flailing dramatically. "He could just not come over, you know. You could find someone who doesn't _suck_." 

David didn't mean to wince, but he did, and now Jack was really giving him The Look. 

"Da- _vey_ ," he half sang, half mumbled. "I fucking _care_ about you." Jack twisted his face into something between guilt, worry, and almost a smile. 

"I know, " David said, rubbing his thumb along the edge of his cast. "And I appreciate it. Really, I do. Just…" he hesitated. 

"Maybe let me make my own choices?" Jack opened his mouth to protest, and David quickly interrupted before the conversation could get derailed. "Without all the fussing and hovering. I promise, I'll let you know if I need help this time." 

He gave Jack his own specific brand of puppy-eyes, reserved only for very special occasions such as today. 

Jack exhaled heavily through his nose, sounding very much like a horse. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I'll give you your space." David smiled. "Thanks, Jack. Maybe try and pass that along to Sarah?"

Jack snorted. "Good luck on that one. She _is_ going to fuss over you, and you're going to like it, _buddy_." 

David laughed, and Jack joined in after a moment. 

"God, Dave, I love her so much." Jack's voice took on the dreamy quality it often did when he talked about Sarah. 

"That's very nice, Jack." David kept his voice as condescending as possible. He did not like being called _buddy_. 

"Yeah," Jack smiled, ignoring David's carefully crafted sass. 

"Speaking of maybe Spot coming over," David began. He turned to fidget with the new coffeemaker again. 

"Are you going to be home this Thursday?"

Jack groaned. 

"Really? Already?" He gestured around their kitchenette/living room combo thing. 

"We'll have to clean up!" 

David glanced around the room. There was a sweater on the floor, a few of his sketchpads out on their coffee table, and one sock on the couch. Hardly a disaster area. 

"Pick your sock up and it'll be fine," he said, channeling the essence of his mother. 

"I can be home, or I can not be," Jack said, ignoring the sock completely. 

"Up to you." 

David hesitated. 

"I… can you be civil to him?" 

Jack huffed. "I'm always civil!" 

"Liar." 

"Am not!" Jack flailed indignantly without making any real gestures. 

"You are not always civil, that's true," David agreed. He tossed the sock and the sweater into their laundry hamper. 

"Just don't run a tornado through here between now and Thursday, and we'll be fine."

Jack grumbled gibberish under his breath, something about _not being the one who leaves pencils in the silverware drawer, Davey,_ which David chose to ignore. That had only been one time. 

Or seven. 

It had not happened very many times. 


	11. Octopus yeehaw text disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claymation should be illegal and college is a scam.  
> If you comment on this, I love you.

Swimming with an animal that could eat you easier than you could unzip your stupid wetsuit should be _objectively_ more nerve-wracking than talking to another human being, but the logic was irrelevant to Spot's worrying mind. 

He really had no problem getting in the water with the orcas; assuming he had a spotter and was paying attention, everything would be fine. 

Crowds weren't a problem for him either. Spot could perform in front of however many people could fit in the stadium, and not have a care in the world. Nobody would be watching him anyway. People came to SeaLand orca shows to see orcas, not guys in wetsuits. 

Spot did not have stage fright, and he enjoyed spending time with several thousand pound carnivores.

So why was he such a fucking _coward?_

David Jacobs was one person. Just one, and a nice one at that. That guy was about as intimidating as a baby deer. 

Spot still didn't know how to invite him to the show coming up in a few weeks. 

"Hey, I know you hate my job and everything I stand for, but do you maybe want to come see me at my work? Which you hate?"

Sure, that would end wonderfully. 

Spot just couldn't help but think that _maybe_ David would change his mind about the park if he just learned and listened to what they did. Maybe if he saw all the little kids in the stadium crowd, getting _so_ excited by the orcas, saw all the future scientists and conservationists and...Spot was just melting himself away with softness today, wasn't he? 

He shook his head to clear away all the fluffy soft thoughts. 

No time for that. Today was time for sorting fish, like usual, and continuing to work with the girls, and also the boys, as he now privately referred to the other trainers. 

Boots stood beside Spot, sorting like a machine, and Elmer scrubbed away at a bucket in the sink. 

What with it being an unusually dreary Thursday, Romeo calling in sick and leaving them short staffed made little difference. Crowds didn't _really_ affect their jobs much, but an empty park was still somehow easier to work in. 

"Have you talked to Pulitzer about the ads he wants to run?"

Elmer brought up what they had all been thinking. Spot winced. 

"I'm not entirely sure how to say it kindly." Boots, without looking up from his sorting, suggested "Hey, Mr. Pulitzer, your ads are tacky at best, and uncomfortable at worst." 

He inspected a herring closely before tossing it in the reject bucket. 

"Please find any other way to advertise the show."

Elmer laughed nervously. "I'm sure that would go great. Maybe we should suggest some posters, or a billboard. Not…" he shuddered. "Claymation commercials on daytime TV." 

Unfortunately, that _was_ the higher ups suggestion for a commercial, and Spot genuinely wondered how this park was still in business, if that was their idea of PR. He shuddered at the thought of all the people who had _already_ seen it, even in the two days it had theoretically been on TV. Maybe nobody had seen it. Spot sure hadn't, andIit wasn't like anybody bothered to get cable TV now anyway. 

"I still get nightmares thinking about watching Gumby in the doctor's office." 

Elmer retched dramatically. "Don't bring up Gumby. This is my happy place."

"Your happy place smells like dead fish," Boots commented. 

"Dead fish, but no clay monstrosities allowed," Spot said firmly. 

Elmer plunked his newly cleaned bucket down on the prep counter and started to fill it.

"I have absolutely no complaints."

* * *

"David!" Jack's sudden holler from the next room startled David out of his concentration and directly into his cup of paint water. 

"You gotta come see this!" 

Well, currently, David's desk was a pond, _Jack,_ so he was a bit distracted. He sighed at the mess, and in response to Jack's continued badgering to "come in, hurry up, David!"

Cleaning the spill could wait a bit, probably. The table might look better with a bluish stain on it, anyway. 

"Shouldn't you be watching your stupid black and white movies channel?" 

Every so often, the _Rewind_ channel played John Wayne marathons, and Jack became utterly useless all day. Cowboys and only cowboys, as Sarah would often tease him. She found it much more endearing and much less annoying than David did. 

"It's Quiet Man, so I don't care. But look," Jack pointed aggressively at the screen, where a SeaLand commercial was playing in it's full, oversaturated glory. David shuddered. 

"I hate it, thanks." 

He had never seen such a terrible depiction of an orca whale in his entire life, including his own drawings, which were utter garbage despite what apparently everyone else wanted to say about them. 

"People support this organization on purpose," Jack marveled, leaning back into the couch. 

"They see _this_ , and they decide to spend their money on it."

David nodded in absent agreement, still trapped on the final clips of the claymation crime to cetaceans. 

He quickly snapped a terribly quality photo of the already terrible commercial and impulsively sent it to Spot. 

_Shoot_ , David immediately realized his mistake. Now he had to come up with some sort of comment about that picture, when all he really wanted to say about it was :(

But what if Spot liked it? Or hadn't seen it? Or the picture didn't make sense, or-

His phone buzzed almost immediately, because apparently Spot was close to his phone. 

_Spot : ik, its really something else, eh?_

David smiled in relief and quickly sent a response. 

_Eh? We'll make a Canadian out of you yet._

Not that David was a particularly stereotypical Canadian, even after spending his entire life in Canada. With all the westerns he'd been forced to watch, it was a miracle he hadn't developed the drawl of a cowboy. 

Spot sent back a middle finger emoji, then, immediately, _but like affectionately fuck off please dont take that the wrong way I swear it's just instinctive!!!_

No, David was not melting for this guy. He refused to do that so soon. He had bought a coffeemaker for practical reasons only, and he certainly wasn't trying desperately not to smile too much as he sent back a quick _no worries, I know what you mean._

Then, of course, he had the debate of whether or not to send a smile or a heart emoji. It was far too early for a heart emoji, but a smile was so often sarcastic…

David read into this kind of thing too much, he realized, slamming down on the first emoji he saw, which happened to be an octopus. 

This was a great way to make himself look like an absolute moron. 

"You want to watch with me?" Jack offered hopefully, snapping David out of his sappy yet stressful thoughts. 

As much as he hated Jack's westerns, David was very bad at saying no to Jack's pleading face. 

"Let me clean up the gigantic mess I just made," he said, moving to do just that. 

"And then I'll pretend to be a weird old man from the United States with you."

"Yeehaw," Jack declared in possibly the worst cowboy impression ever attempted. 

David shook his head and laughed. 

"Yeehaw," he agreed. 


	12. Writing this has made me crave mustard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick, so I wrote this.  
> Everybody say "thanks, Maggie's weak immune system!"

At some point, Spot supposed he was bound to end up in the most nauseatingly touristy area of his new home city. It was inevitable; SeaLand was only a short drive from what was, apparently, the most attractive pier in the area.

Spot was usually fine with crowds, but usually he was performing in front of them, not walking out among everyone and being shoved, stepped on, and just in general having his space invaded. 

He looked around the crowded walkway, trying to catch sight of anything that resembled a bookstore. 

_This_ , Spot decided, _is what hell looks like_. 

Or it would be, if hell had an exit in the shape of a smallish shop in between a place selling overpriced ice cream and a foldable stand selling airbrushed t-shirts and taking up entirely too much space. 

Praise the lord, he'd found David's workplace and could get away from this crowd. 

Spot made his way over to the bookshop, completely ignoring any people who might have been in his way. 

"Watch where you're going, buddy," a man who, by Spot's estimation was about nine feet tall, said with a condescending smile. People seemed to have trouble realizing that Spot was, in fact, in his twenties, and not a child who could pass as a high schooler. 

Spot did not get used to it, and he did not intend to get used to it. It annoyed him just as much as the stupid crowds of people annoyed him right now, blocking his path to the bookstore. 

After what felt like about three years of dodging tourist groups, Spot finally ducked through the door, a cheerfully jingling bell announcing his presence to the entire store. Specifically, it announced his presence to David Jacobs, currently arranging a display of books on a table. 

David's face lit up as soon as their eyes met, and Spot tripped on his own foot in his distraction. Maybe David liked the beard he must have grown on the trek to the door through crowds of people. Spot reached up and touched his face, just to be sure no such beard existed. 

Fortunately, it did not. 

"Hey, Spot!" David waved him over to the table he was working at. 

"What are these?"

Spot picked up the book, hardly noting the title or author. What he did see was the name _David Jacobs_ listed under “Illustrations by."

Spot thumbed through the glossy pages, detailed watercolors of brightly colored fish, fluffy otters, and orcas that just looked _perfect._

The orcas were what really held his gaze. David had to have been close to a real one to draw them like that. It wasn't just that they looked realistic, which they did. David's drawings looked _alive_. 

How could paper and ink have the same spark as a living, breathing animal?

"You did these." 

It was a statement, not a question, and Spot was impressed. 

"Yeah…" David stared down at his hands almost shyly. "They're stupid. Not a job or anything, but I like to make them."

"Are you kidding me?" 

Spot held up the book to show David pictures he had probably seen plenty of times. 

"This is beautiful! They're selling in a real bookstore, so people must like them."

David’s face flushed bright red. “They’re only selling it because I work here. It’s not that great.” 

“No,” Spot argued, thumbing through the pages again. “These are amazing. Look at this-"

"I've seen them," David interrupted, his voice strangely stiff. He looked down at the display table and fiddled with the book stand. 

"I spend hours drawing and coloring and re-drawing them. I know what they look like."

He reached over and closed the book Spot was holding. 

"I don't even do the stories." 

Spot really wanted to point out that he hadn't _read_ the stories, and he didn't particularly care what they said. He liked the illustrations enough without any words. 

"You know, lots of people say a picture's worth a thousand words."

David scoffed, the blush fading slightly. "People also like to say things like "starving artist," and "get a real job.""

Spot held back a hiss that would probably confuse David if he let it out. People shouldn't say those things, but he really didn't want this to become an argument. 

"Well, I like them," Spot declared. "Even if they aren't your job." He set the book carefully on its little metal stand. 

"Speaking of which, are you ready to head out?" 

Clearly relieved to have ended the conversation about whether or not his clearly significant talent existed or not, David nodded. 

"Let me just check with my bosses. Dutchy?" He called into the shelves. The voice that called back sounded something like an irritated pelican. 

"What?"

"Are you good if I leave?"

Spot thought he might just kill this Dutchy guy, what with the way he talked to David, but David seemed amused, if anything. 

"Yeah, go ahead. If you see Specs, tell him to hurry up." 

David reached to grab his flannel from behind the counter. 

"Will do, thanks Dutchy."

Spot debated reaching to grab David's hand, but decided now was still too early. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets to occupy them. 

"They're like an old married couple, Specs and Dutchy," David explained, moving closer to Spot on the crowded pier. 

"Been dating as long as I've worked there, but neither of them have the courage to propose, apparently." 

Spot laughed lightly. 

"Maybe they just like keeping people guessing." 

"That does sound like a Specs and Dutchy thing to do," David agreed, stopping to adjust his sleeves and also keep from being trampled by a gaggle of approximately three million elementary aged children. 

"You're still up for just wandering?"

Spot figured he should ask, after all, David was the one who just finished a shift working retail, the worst job on the planet. 

"I can show you around a bit," David offered, gesturing vaguely around the area. 

"There's plenty of stuff to see. Want to grab some food?"

"I could eat," Spot agreed. He was going to pay for everything if he had to steal David's wallet and hide it to do so. 

As it turned out, he didn't have to steal anything, though David did protest Spit paying for a pretzel sold from a street vendor. This really was one of the most touristy places Spot had ever been. Everything was basically carnival food but wrapped in newspaper. 

Admittedly, it was pretty good carnival food, and having a hot pretzel and a small cup of extremely processed cheese gave Spot something to do with his hands. How David managed with only one not bound in a cast was nothing short of magical. 

"You're a heathen," he informed David as they walked. Magical or not, David's food choices were a crime against pretzels. 

"Mustard is good, you're just wrong." David finished the last bit of his pretzel and looked around for a recycle bin. 

"Mustard is good," Spot agreed. "But not on pretzels." 

Such a crowded place, and they didn't have hardly any trash cans or recycle bins. 

"There," David pointed across the street, reading Spot's mind. 

"Recycling bin." 

He gestured for Spot to give him his trash, and Spot handed over the paper and cup. 

David jogged across the street, tossed away their trash in the blue recycle box, and jogged back. Spot found himself staring entirely too intently at the way his shirt moved as he ran. David stopped just short of the curb, smiling almost mischievously. 

"If I stand down here, we're the same height," he teased. Spot scowled. That wasn't even true. David was still taller. 

He started to tell David what a jerk he was, but quickly became distracted by a tour company bus nearly running them both over. 

Instinctively, Spot grabbed David and pulled him off the street and out of the way. 

"Shit, are you okay?"

Eyes wide, David nodded stiffly. "Thanks."

The bus drove right where he'd been standing, and neither of them had been paying enough attention to realize it was even there. 

What Spot _was_ paying attention to at the moment was the fact that, right now, he was holding David's hand. He was very aware of that fact, and not at all in a bad way. 

David looked down at their hands in surprise, but he didn't pull away. 

Spot tentatively wound their fingers together more comfortably, and David moved just a little bit closer. 

The walkway _was_ pretty crowded, after all. They wouldn't want to be taking up all the sidewalk by standing far apart, of course. 


	13. Beep beep drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reason this took so long is I forgot I exist and also college is hard.  
> Here, have some conflict.

No, Spot was _not_ procrastinating. He wasn't avoiding anything, as he simply did not have anything to avoid. 

He fumbled with the absurdly large ring with one single key as he locked up the building behind him. 

Were his hands normally this sweaty? No, this wasn't sweat. Just water, because Spot worked around water all the time. That was the reason. No nerves. None whatsoever. 

Tokitae peeked up at the surface of the water, a shimmery reflection in the darkening pool. 

"Goodnight, Tokie," Spot smiled fondly, welcoming the distraction. The "little" whale creaked and chirped at him, wanting just a little bit more attention before he left for the night. Spot made the terrible mistake of looking her in the eyes, and he was stuck, quite possibly forever. He'd never leave this spot. 

Tokie wanted attention, and attention she would get. 

"You," he declared, settling down on the platform. "Are far too cute for your own good." 

The whale splashed water in Spot's general direction, squealing happily. 

"Yes, that's very nice." 

Spot rubbed her pectoral fin like the belly of an oversized dog. 

"I really should head out." 

Tokitae creaked like she was whining, but of course she didn't know what he was saying. Still, Spot liked to play along. 

"I'll be back in the morning. We'll work on the show, yeah? That'll be fun." 

The show that Spot really wanted to invite David to come see. The show that David probably did not _want_ to come see. The show that David disagreed with fundamentally, and Spot really wanted to change his mind about, because there was no way this relationship would survive if he didn't. 

Spot really wanted this relationship to last. 

He sighed and got to his feet.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Tokie." 

The whale creaked a little goodbye and went to join her mother bobbing sleepily just under the water. 

Spot lingered for a few moments more, watching the two settle down for the evening. It was a beautiful sight, with the sunset colors painting the water in a reflection of pink and orange. He found himself wondering how the pair of whales would look surrounded by many others, out with rippling waves and water deep enough to turn him into a pancake from the pressure alone. 

Wouldn't that be a nice way to spend time? But Tokie and Corky had a nice life here. 

Spot locked the gate and headed towards the tent, a few straggling activists hanging around. 

_Free the Whales!_ And _Tanks = Prisons_ shouted at him from a few of the more aggressive signs. If only things were that simple, so neat and clean and black and white. Put the whales in the ocean and then they'll be just fine. 

Would it be nice if Tokie and Corky could be in the ocean? Absolutely. What these people didn't realize was just how bad wild orcas had it. They needed that reserve, the genetics kept safe under human care, just in case the worst happened.

Extinction was not an option Spot was willing to consider, not for an animal so wonderful.

Once people started giving a fuck about animals they couldn't get close to, Spot thought bitterly, then they could get rid of captive animals. 

Until then, he was pretty sure Tokitae would let him know if she hated him for feeding her, playing with her, and making sure she was safe and healthy. 

"Wow, something happened." 

Spot jumped at the voice, which happened to belong to David. 

"You look ready to commit murder." 

David fidgeted with his cast as if he thought the murder Spot was ready to commit might be _him_. 

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, desperately trying to quickly remove his resting bitch face. 

"I was thinking. Gives me a headache when I do that." 

David laughed something that was almost more of a giggle, which made Spot's prior bad mood immediately melt away in favor of whatever the mood was when he saw David and his brain fell out into his heart and neither of them knew which way was up. 

Or maybe it was only Spot who felt like that. To quote Bambi, Spot was twitterpated. Maybe that was what made his next plan so incredibly difficult. 

"Hey, I was wondering…" 

David looked at him curiously. Spot swallowed hard, not at all nervous. 

"Next Friday. We're having the first show. Would you want to maybe… you could come watch?" 

Spot tried not to feel too hopeful, which wasn't hard given the look on David's face, half nauseous, half irritated, with maybe a little curiosity hidden under everything else. 

"I don't know."

He'd never heard David sound so blunt before, and that hurt. 

"Why?" 

David looked confused. "What do you mean _why?"_

"Why won't you at least _see_ what it's about?" 

Jack stood just a tiny bit closer than Spot liked. 

"Not just assume I'm some kind of monster all the time? That maybe this could be a _good_ thing?" He shook his head. 

"I came to _your_ job!"

"That's different, and you know it!" David's face set stubbornly into a sharp glare. "You have some secret issue with bookstores you didn't bring up? It's not like I lied to you. You knew all along, I don't agree with what you're doing."

"So why did you go out with me?" Spot shoved his hands into his pockets to stop them from twitching. 

"You thought you could convert me to your weird little cult? Is that it? Was it ever actually about me?" 

He was angry, yes, but that didn't mean Spot was prepared for the way David cringed. He gestured for Spot to follow him behind the truck for some privacy, to Jack's obvious annoyance. 

"I didn't think, okay? I'm stupid, is that what you want me to say?" Why does it matter so much that I come?"

"Because it's my life, and I want you to come and be a part of it!"

Oh, people were staring now. Not a _lot_ of people, but still. Everyone in the almost empty parking lot was looking at them. Well, that was what happened when you suddenly shouted all your relationship issues for everyone to hear, wasn't it?

"Sorry," Spot and David said quietly at the same time. 

Spot offered a little smile as an apology. 

"I'm just… I don't know. You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I'd love it if you were there."

David nodded slowly. 

"I'll think about it. Really, I will."

Spot found that he believed him. David was not a liar, even to make someone else happy. 

"Thank you. And… And I'm really sorry. For flipping out," Spot stared at his hands. 

"I'll see you tomorrow?" 

"Yeah," David's fingers traced lightly along his arm. 

"See you tomorrow, Spot."


	14. Thlub thlub thlub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *bonks u with a chapter*

Spot wasn't particularly spiritual, but he was pretty sure that if heaven existed, it was down in the ocean, and not up in the sky. The sound of water thlub-thlub-thlubbing in your ears, suspended by only your own buoyancy, and the (usually) gentle rock of currents was like nothing dry land could ever provide. 

He'd been fifteen when he got his SCUBA certification, and spent countless hours in the water in the years before that, so Spot was completely comfortable in and under the water. Maybe even more than he was on land.

He settled into a cross-legged position, floating under the water with just his wetsuit, no other gear needed at the moment. Things were definitely simpler down here. No arguments, no double standards or backwards compliments. No complicated relationships. The water did what it did. That was all there was to it. Maybe it could and would kill you, but at least you knew where you stood. 

SeaLand's orca exhibit wasn't the ocean, but it was close enough. 

Spot would have to find the time to dive the coasts around here sometime. Canada had to have stuff he'd never seen before. 

He'd never seen someone with eyes like… no, he couldn't be distracted right now, not even by David Jacobs and his beautiful... 

Spot was going to keep his entire mind on Corky. She watched him float, spinning lightly in circles and occasionally nudging his side. It never failed to amaze Spot how gentle such a giant animal could possibly be with his tiny, fragile human body. Tiny compared to a whale, of course. 

Compared to other humans, Spot was absolutely normal sized and not in the slightest bit short. 

Maybe growing a little short of oxygen at the moment, so Spot decided to head for the surface, where there was more of that O2 stuff out there. He wasn't stupid enough to free dive very deep, so just a few kicks and he broke the surface. 

"Two minutes, five seconds!" Boots called out from his position on the edge of the water. His record was two minutes and thirty seconds, but Spot wasn't going to complain. Anything over two minutes and he was happy. 

Besides, the new trainer was shaping up to be an excellent spotter, and even Spot, semi-professional safety guru, found himself trusting Boots as completely as he'd trusted any of his old coworkers back in California. 

Before he could respond, though, Spot was surprised by Corky bumping up underneath him, uncharacteristically frisky. He steadied himself on her broad back, right in front of her dorsal fin, and let himself be ferried over to the platform. 

"Show off," Boots laughed affectionately, rubbing Corky's rostrum. 

"Ready for Friday?"

Spot shrugged, pretending he wasn't nervous about their upcoming first show. "Probably."

He climbed out onto the platform and shook the water off of his hair. 

"Unless the girls decide they don't feel like it." 

Really, he was more concerned about Tokitae. Corky was usually ready and willing to do whatever she was asked, but her daughter was young, energetic, and much more mischievous. She could really throw a wrench into any performance, distracting Corky and deciding to do her own thing, whatever that might be. 

The young whale had once half-undressed a trainer in front of a crowd of annoyed parents and children who probably didn't even notice the incident, so anything was possible. Spot still wasn't sure how she'd managed to undo the wetsuit zipper, but it had certainly caused a fuss. 

For what it was worth, Spot found her antics endlessly amusing nine times out of ten, but his bosses might not appreciate their first show being a disaster because Tokie decided she'd rather play Chase Mom All Around The Tank than listen to her cues. 

"It's going to go great," Elmer piped up, setting down a bucket of fish. 

"Even if Tokie causes a huge fuss, she's cute and people will love her."

"And she _knows_ this," Spot smiled. "Little brat. Hey!"

The little brat herself spewed water all across his legs and chest, squeaking and squawking gleefully at her own mischief. 

"Yes, he means you," Elmer cooed, giving Tokitae the attention she was clearly looking for. "Cute little brat, yeah? Gonna make all the people love you?" 

Tokitae turned and darted away with a playful splash of her tail, soaking Elmer thoroughly. The message was clear as if Tokie had an orca-human translator. 

_As if they had any other option_. 

* * *

David looked at the clock on the stove, then went back to his sketchbook. If he just sat here working, he wouldn't have to think. Wouldn't have to make any kind of decision. He could just stay home and honestly tell Spot that he'd just gotten distracted, lost track of time. 

He totally _meant_ to go watch the show today. David was just forgetful. He got distracted easily, right? 

Right.

All he had to do was lose track of time for an hour or so. How hard could that be?

David looked up at the clock. It had been two minutes. 

He leaned back in his chair and sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair and down his face. The stupid cast made that kind of difficult, seeing as it made one of his hands very clunky and uncomfortable to drag down his face. He groaned and flipped his sketchbook shut, an unfinished sea urchin remaining unfinished for the time being. 

"Jack, I'm heading out for a couple hours." He grabbed his jacket and crammed shoes on his feet, for some reason feeling like a liar. "Can you feed Ralphie for me?"

David's rat was very spoiled, and had to be fed right on time or he would have an absolute tantrum. Jack knew this, and he did not want to deal with the rat tantrum, so he immediately shouted back, "yeah, see you later!"

And with that, David threw himself into the first decision in a very, very long time that he'd made without completely thinking through. 

He was going to SeaLand for something other than protesting. 

Why did this feel almost illegal? 


End file.
